


Salty Air and Clear Skies

by WhouffleLover24



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I Tried, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Pining Sherlock, only a little bit though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 04:39:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13942770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhouffleLover24/pseuds/WhouffleLover24
Summary: Everything was good enough to be a dream.





	Salty Air and Clear Skies

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back from my three (four...?) month hiatus!
> 
> Warning: There is implied drug use. There is also somewhat implied smut. (The two are not related in any way, don't worry.) Also, apologies in advance for any medical inaccuracies that I may have written in.

* * *

 

The calm wind ruffled Sherlock’s hair as he sat on the dock; his legs and bare-feet dangling off the edge. He took a deep breath of the salty air, absorbing his surroundings.

 

“The ocean’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Sherlock watched as John sat down next to him, pushing his sunglasses up off his eyes.

 

Sherlock hummed in agreement, “But, I daresay it’s the most beautiful thing I see.”

 

John nudged him with his elbow, but grinned, “Watch it. Keep going like that and I'm going to get all soppy with you too.” 

 

"Oh, the horror."

 

John laughed -oh wasn't that just a melodious sound- and placed a kiss on Sherlock’s cheek, tilting his head so it would lean comfortably on Sherlock’s shoulder. A comfortable silence stretched between the two of them. The sound of ships leaving the dock, and the crashing waves on the tide filled the air as they both stared out into the vast expanse of the glittering, blue sea. The barely-there sunset giving it a slightly orange tint.

 

_It was good enough to be a dream._

 

“We really did get lucky with the weather,” John looked up at the sky, “there’s barely a cloud in the sky.”

 

Sherlock hummed again in agreement, "Your idea of a holiday wasn’t as bad as I imagined it would be. Albeit the lack of cases and crime.”

 

“Who said this was a holiday?”

 

“You said it was.”

 

John furrowed his eyebrows and turned his head towards Sherlock, “I said what was what?”

 

“You said this was a holiday.” Sherlock paused, “This was your idea, wasn’t it? I can’t imagine anyone else convincing me to go on holiday.”

 

John didn’t reply.

 

He let it go.

 

*****

 

The two of them left the dock at dusk to a little cafe on the sea-side. Chatting and giggling as Sherlock deduced the people around the two of them. And in one case; the couple that was sitting four tables away from them.

 

John took a bite of his sandwich and a sip of his drink, “And are you going to tell him that his boyfriend is planning to propose to him tonight?”

 

Sherlock took a sip of his coffee, “I might, I might not. Though I have the sneaking suspicion you wouldn’t want me to.”

 

“Hell no.”

 

"Then I won't."

 

In a strange way, everything was perfect. Peaceful. Happy.

 

Yet Sherlock felt wrong-footed; as if everything was off equilibrium. Alike the feeling you get when everything in the room is just one inch to the left than it originally was.

 

He let it go.

 

*****

 

The next morning, they took a visit down to the beach and lied down on the rough sand as their bodies soaked in the hot sun for hours and hours. He could’ve stayed there forever really; if it hadn’t been for John, who had convinced him to go down to the ocean. (I didn’t bring all these towels if we weren’t going to swim, you berk.)

 

They waded far into the ocean. Far away from everyone else. Where it was just the two of them. Together. And just when Sherlock couldn’t reach the seabed, he arched his back and let himself float onto his back; peering to the left to see that John had done the same thing. He breathed in the salty, warm air and let his dark curls soak into the cool water.

 

He didn’t know when John had dipped below the surface, but the next time he looked to his left, John was gone.

 

He brought himself off his back and looked about himself, “John?" Where did he go? What was he doing?

 

"Yes, Sherlock?"

 

Sherlock spun back around to see John, wading in the water right next to him. When did he get there? And wasn't he just floating on his back?

 

John furrowed his eyebrows and brought a calloused hand to Sherlock's cheek, concern on his face,"Is everything ok love?"

 

"I'm fine."

 

"Are you sure?"

 

Sherlock smiled tiredly and pressed a kiss to John's lips, "I'm sure."

 

John moved his hand so it was holding Sherlock's, "Let's go back to shore."

 

They swam back to shore and lied, together, back on the sand. John's head resting under Sherlock's open arm. The sun seemed to set a lot quicker than it had the day before.

 

Sherlock let it go.

 

*****

 

That night, Sherlock pressed John's back into the soft mattress as he loved every inch of John. He kissed his forehead and worked his way down John's tanned throat, shoulders (making sure John's wound got extra attention), his broad chest, stomach, and finally, the inside of his thighs. He relished in the way John's breathe caught in his throat and the moan that spilled from his throat when Sherlock gave John's cock an experimental lick. Oh, how much he earned to hear that sound again.

 

He spent the rest of the night pounding John into the mattress as they both kissed each other sloppily while Sherlock babbled on and on. ( _I love you, oh I love you so much, oh god! John!_ )

 

They made a complete mess of the sheets, but he couldn't bring himself to care. All that there was, was the two of them. Together for as long as they could be.

 

_It was good enough to be a dream._

 

*****

 

The next day, he and John were back on the dock. Sherlock turned his head to John and felt a swell of happiness and love in his chest.

 

John Watson.

 

The only man who was patient enough to stay with Sherlock every day, and the man who was brave and kind enough to save Sherlock Holmes.

 

"I love you." Sherlock heard himself blurt out.

 

John smiled at him with kind eyes and a broad smile that Sherlock adored. He opened his mouth to speak, "I love-"

 

Abruptly, Sherlock was thrust off the dock face-first into the suddenly cold water.

 

He never heard the end of John's sentence.

 

*****

 

Cold.

 

Wet.

 

Or was it?

 

No, it wasn’t.

 

But it should be.

 

He flailed his limbs and kicked. He had to get to the surface again. But where was it?

 

_Where is the surface?_

 

He felt his lungs constrict. He needed air. He needed to take a breath. But the water was surrounding him. Wasn’t it? It had to be.

 

But where was it?

 

Sherlock snapped his eyes open and gasped.

 

Where was he?

 

He blearily blinked a few times. There was tan cracked surface above him. He blinked a few more times and found it was a ceiling.

 

"John?" he croaked. Where was John? Wasn't he with John just a few seconds ago?

 

He lifted his wrist to his face. Pinpricks. Bruises.

 

His other hand felt right next to him. A needle.

 

Sherlock laughed at himself.

 

_It was a dream, it was just a dream._

 

Of course, John wouldn't be there, he got married to Mary.

 

_And you killed Mary._

 

Sherlock furiously shook his head, as if that would make the thought disappear. He couldn't-wouldn't- think about it. 

 

_You failed John._

 

He clambered for the needle. He needed to go back.

 

_Back where?_

 

Back to salty air and clear skies.

 

_No._

 

He needed to go back to John.

 

He felt a prick on his wrist.

 

*****

 

_"I love you, too, Sherlock Holmes.”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to try my hand at some (for a lack of better term) sadder fanfictions. What did you think? 
> 
> Edit: I just realised, that all my italics disappeared, so I fixed that.
> 
> My [Tumblr.](https://loveinthefandoms.tumblr.com/)


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